A Commercial Enigma
by ZippyRox
Summary: It was backhanded, you are quite right. But I have no regrets. And neither do you. So quit pretending, Haruhi. You're not fooling anyone. KyouyaxHaruhi.
1. One: Of Seizures and Reacquainting

((A/N: Hello hello, readers. Thank you for taking the time to check out this story, even if you decide that my author's note bores you and you click the back button on your browser. I'm generally a die-hard Harry Potter fan, but I'm rather fond of anime as well, so I thought I'd try my hand at an Ouran fanfic. I'm not going to press you for reviews, and I'm certainly not going to threaten you with a hiatus if you do not review. Laissez-faire, as I always believe. If you do review, I'd appreciate it if you provide some constructive criticism for me. I'm cool with flames, but that doesn't mean I pay any attention to worthless slander. I like substance in reviews, and those are likely the only ones I'll acknowledge. I'm also looking for a beta, so if you might be interested, I would love for you to contact me. Never can have enough editing, eh? Well, that's all I have to say, so enjoy the story!))

Six years.

Has it really been that long? The time just flew by, and before I knew it, here I was. Six years older. I'd left behind everything after graduation from OA. We all did. We, the members of the Host Club, we thought we'd be friends forever.

But things change. People go their separate ways. Hani and Mori, they've gone to Italy for University. With Hani and his love for sweets, where better to learn how to cook them? And Mori, he just follows, silently, as per usual, keeping the little one out of trouble. But I'm sure that isn't the only reason.

Hikaru and Kaoru, they've gone off to England to pursue a career in clothing design. They have a knack for it, let me tell you. The clothes they send me don't quite suit my taste, but I'm sure to wear them on special occasions, just to honor their wishes. Frills, ribbons, and all.

Kyouya, naturally, is running a highly successful business here in Japan, dealing with all sorts of things. He's used his manipulation and intelligence to buy out most of the medical suppliers in the country, as well as hotel chains, hospitals, and restaurants.

And Tamaki... well, he went back to France. We were together for five years, even engaged. But something happened. Neither of us are sure, but we just... fell out of love, I suppose. After we ended things, he announced that he was returning to his mother in France, and was going to pursue a career that would best utilize his talents: Acting. Well, he certainly was a great actor, and he's very successful in France. He still writes occasionally.

Now I'm here, still in Japan, one more year until I graduate from Tokyo University. I've studied to become a lawyer, just like my mom. She would've been proud of me, a Tokyo U student. That's what has been motivating me all these years, and still motivates me, even now. I need to make her proud, to feed my own sense of self-satisfaction, to prove something to myself, and to her.

Without my friends, though, I still feel a bit lonely, ambition aside. I sometimes wish that I could go to them, visit any of them whenever I want to, but I know that just wouldn't work. I have school, they have careers ahead of them. The only one I could possibly see is Kyouya, but he's so occupied with his business, aside from his own University studies, I'd hate to bother him. So I just go on with my life, working part time and studying a majority of my days, and hope that my mom will give me the strength to get through this.

I need that strength.

-------

The phone rang.

I picked it up, at 5 in the morning, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. It was too early for phone calls, in my opinion. It was too early to even be awake.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone, my voice breaking.

"Haruhi Fujioka?" A cold, deep voice inquired. I vaguely recognized the voice, but it was simply too early to comprehend.

"This is she," I responded cautiously, waking up slightly. Who was this? And why were they calling at this ungodly hour? "Who's calling?"

"An...old friend," the smooth voice replied evasively. "I've an offer to make you, Miss Fujioka. A limo will be by your place in an hour. It would be...beneficial for you to look your best."

"Excuse me, but I don't even know who you--" I began to protest, but the cold voice cut in quickly.

"Fifty-nine minutes, Miss Fujioka, and not a second later." The voice then vanished, clearly signifying that this conversation was over.

I stared at the phone for a few seconds, then returned it to its cradle. After a moment of thought, I fell back onto the bed and curled up under the sheets. Yeah, right. I'm certainly going to jump into the limo of a complete stranger at six in the morning and be whisked away to accept an "offer." An old friend? Okay. Maybe we can be "old friends" some other day. And after noon.

I drifted back into sleep, intent on sleeping at least until the sun showed its blinding face.

I was rudely awakened ten minutes later, however, by someone lifting me roughly from my bed. My eyes shot open and I yelped, surprised and scared out of my wits. The man carrying me was in a black suit, with dark sunglasses, and he was very, very strong. I struggled relentlessly, but couldn't get loose.

"Let me go! Who the hell do you think you are?! Help! Someone! I'm being kidnapped!" I shouted as he lifted me down the stairs of my flat and toward that black limo that the man promised to send. People poked their heads out of the doors, but looked frightened by the sight of the man. Many slammed their doors, and you could hear the rusty locks sliding into place.

So much for friendly neighbors.

The man tossed me into the limo unceremoniously and slammed the door. I pulled at the handle, trying to escape, but it wouldn't open. Clearly, I was dealing with someone who really didn't want me to escape. This was fantastic. I felt like I was being detained by the Yakuza. But I hadn't borrowed any money, or started a fight with anyone. Of course, I was more scared than I am letting on in this account, but that would just be including useless detail. Besides, isn't it better to make myself look a bit stronger?

I slammed my hands against the window repeatedly, but no one came to help. The limo pulled out of the complex, and I slumped in defeat. There was no escape. I was probably off to meet an early death by the hands of the mob boss. For no reason. It just didn't add up. I rapped the window separating the back from the front of the car. It slid open slightly.

"Yes, Miss Fujioka?" The man's voice was gruff, but I could hear the vague amusement underlying it. It wasn't the man who had called me, I knew that much from the voice. I didn't see any humor in the situation, so I was becoming a bit agitated.

"What is this?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"What? Have you never been inside a limo before, Miss Fujioka?" He responded lightly, playing dumb.

"Don't screw around here, Mister... whoever you are..." I replied, my anger mounting by the second. "Why am I being kidnapped? Who sent you?"

The man released a short bark of laughter. "Kidnapped? Who's kidnapping you? My employer sent me. He was quite sure that you wouldn't have come, so he sent me to get you. Don't worry, Miss, you'll be well taken care of."

"Who's your employer? Are you yakuza?" I inquired, pressing my face into the crack of the window. "What do you want with me? Didn't he say I had until six?!"

"Enough with all the questions, Miss Fujioka," the man answered, clearly even more amused than before. "We're here. It would be wise to cooperate, Miss."

I glanced out the tinted window and saw that we had pulled up to a secluded warehouse. So they WERE yakuza. Cheap, no-name yakuza. Oh, I was going to die so very badly. Not even murdered in a nice room on the top floor of a five-star hotel. Nope, just in a shack. But I was too smart to be uncooperative. Maybe I could survive this thing. Outwit the enemy. The back door opened, and the man offered a hand to help me out of the limo. I reluctantly took it and followed him into the beaten old building. We went inside, and I was completely shocked.

The entire room was plastered with tasteful metallic gold wallpaper, with expensive-looking paintings of attractive, rich people spread about the walls. There were at least 8 doors, each leading to who knows what. I was about to find out, of course. The red carpet that trailed across the room was lined with gold rope, and the same rope was hanging in arcs from the chandelier. A petite woman with long, shiny hair was sitting behind the desk, an extremely false smile plastered to her face.

"Good morning! Miss Fujioka, I presume?" The woman's voice was high-pitched, and the greeting seemed rather forced.

I stood, staring. Gee, maybe I really was going to be killed in an agreeable setting. Even if it WAS a feigned environment.

The woman looked at me expectantly, her smile wavering ever so slightly. I nodded curtly. Her smile widened (If that was even possible) and she scrawled something onto a clipboard.

"Right this way, please!" She led me to a room, the third door on the right, and I stepped inside. I was worried about what was on the other side, but it was too risky to run away. It turned out to be a huge salon, larger than my flat. There were several people standing directly in front of me, in a line, as if they were expecting me. When I entered, they bowed and introduced themselves.

"I am Himawari Ken," said a man with shoulder-length hair and a gold hoop earring. "I'm the hair stylist."

"I'm Oguri Sumire, Miss Fujioka," a pretty woman piped in, her well-manicured hands clasped. "Your nail and make-up artist."

"Elise Bordeaux, clozing specialist," a French woman with a heavy accent spoke up, looking every bit the "clothing specialist" with her expensive, stylish outfit. I bowed to the three standing before me, utterly perplexed. Why on earth was I in a SALON?! I was extremely relieved that it wasn't a yakuza kidnapping, but now I was wondering who could have arranged this. Who sent me to an entire day spa disguised as a broken-down, old warehouse? I couldn't think of a single person I know who would do something like this.

"It is very nice to meet you all, but I'm afraid there's been a mistake. You see, I never made any appointments," I explained awkwardly. They all just continued smiling, like mannequins. Mannequins straight from an exorbitant shopping mall in London. It was thoroughly creeping me out. "So, I suppose I'll just leave now. Sorry for all the trouble." I bowed again and made to leave the room... until I bumped into the guard guy who had escorted me here. He chuckled and turned me back around.

"Mr. President requests that she look as feminine as you can get her. Business attire, it's for an interview with the company," the guard commanded. The stylists all nodded.

"Who's Mr. President?" I asked. They all looked away and began preparing their stations. I was still confused. I looked back to the guard, but he was already gone. Geez, what's with these people? Can't I get some answers? "What interview? What company?"

Elise grasped my forearm and led me to a room. It was like a closet, but about ten times larger than any other I've seen. My mouth gaped open. Was it really necessary to have so many clothes? I looked over to Elise. "Excuse me, but can you explain what's going on?" She smiled, her teeth glinting in the bright light of the room.

"No," she responded. "Please, zis way madame." Her Japanese obviously wasn't very good, so I didn't press the matter. I could just wait and get answers from the next stylist. Elise took me along the rows of clothes and stopped in front of a section of business outfits. She looked at the rack, then back at me, several times before choosing a navy blue suit with a skirt. She handed it to me and dragged me over to a huge wardrobe. She threw open the doors and opened a drawer on the inside. I blushed as she pulled out matching bra and panties, navy blue like the suit, and some panty hose. She bent to the bottom of the wardrobe and withdrew a pair of heels that matched the suit as well. She silently ushered me into a dressing room and closed the door behind me. I reluctantly changed into the outfit.

Everything fit me perfectly. This woman really was a professional. I stepped out of the room and Elise turned. She smiled brightly and spoke, what I thought to be praises, in French. She was holding a necklace and earrings in her hand, which she put into my pocket. "After make-up and hair, okay?" It was more of a command than a question. I nodded and was turned from the room, where Mr. Himawari was waiting with Ms. Oguri.

"Are you ready for us, Miss Fujioka?" Ms. Oguri asked, her voice enthusiastic.

"Not really, but I suppose I'm not left with much of a choice, am I?" I responded lamely. The two laughed.

"No, you aren't, actually. Not if we are to keep our jobs," Mr. Himawari chuckled. I sighed and followed them to their station. They sat me down and Mr. Himawari began toying with my hair as Ms. Oguri took my hands in hers, setting them on the manicure table in front of us. She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, Miss Fujioka, we are a bit short on time. Perhaps you can come back for the full treatment another time?" Sumire suggested.

"That won't be necessary," I replied. All this pampering was more irritating than anything. I'd much rather be home, asleep. "But, who is this President that you guys are speaking of?" They glanced at each other.

"You don't know, Miss Fujioka?" Ken asked carefully, tugging on my hair with a comb.

"No, and it is really beginning to grate on my nerves," I answered. "I want answers. Can't you tell me anything that's going on? Why am I even here?"

"Mr. President will explain everything, I'm sure," Sumire replied, filing my nails. "Just be patient. If he hasn't told you, it is not our place to do so."

I sighed again, frustrated. I didn't want these people to lose their jobs, so I quit asking questions. I began thinking the things I would say to whoever planned this, and of the different ways I could hurt him, as Sumire began applying my makeup. I really don't like makeup, and I'll never understand why so many women spend so much time putting it on. The whole experience was annoying as a whole, and I really, really wanted to go home. After about ten minutes, they asked me to stand up and look in the mirror. I was appalled by the sight reflected there.

My hair, which hung just below my shoulders, was side-parted and straighter than it had ever been. My face looked completely flawless, and the brown and navy tones they had applied accented my eyes. The business suit was tight-fitting, and the skirt was a bit shorter than I was comfortable with, and the slight slit on the side did not help one bit. Sumire removed the jewelry from my pocket and clasped it onto me. I cringed. I was no longer Haruhi Fujioka. I was some superficial scarlet woman, dressed to be some sort of secretary. The type who sleeps with their boss to get a raise.

Damn, it was going to take me a while to wash this makeup off tonight. How inconvenient.

I faked a smile, though, because the staff had been very kind to me. Aside from keeping me here against my will. "Thank you very much. You have all done very well."

"Well, we are the experts," Ken remarked, unable to conceal his smile. "We've performed a miracle."

I frowned. "Thanks, I appreciate that." They all laughed, and Elise handed me a purse to match the ensemble. Does the madness never end?!

"Good luck," they all said in unison, as I was pulled from the room by the guard. I looked up at him, with fire in my eyes.

"Good luck?" I asked menacingly. "How did they know I was planning to kill whoever sent you? I'll certainly need that luck..." He just laughed, infuriating me even further. "What's so funny?! I'm not even myself anymore! You guys have turned me into someone else! And for what?! I don't know! Because no one will tell me! I'm SO suing you all when this is over!"

He grinned wickedly. "Oh, trust me, Miss Fujioka. You won't want to sue once you learn what it's for. We're doing you a huge favor. The President will be very pleased."

"I didn't ask for any favors. And I NEVER ask strangers for favors. So this is ridiculous." I said, my teeth clenching again.

He opened the door and shoved me lightly into the limo. We took off and I glared out the window. "What's your name, anyway?" I asked him.

"Jin Chae," he responded.

"Korean?" I asked him, noting the foreign last name.

"Half," he replied, glancing back. I nodded. "We're almost there."

"I'm not going to be killed or anything, am I, Mr. Chae?" I asked hesitantly.

He laughed for about the millionth time since I was picked up. My left eye twitched in irritation. "Of course not. You will see, you may as well stop prying."

I scowled and stared back out the window. We seemed to be approaching a very large office building, with windows so large and clean that the sun was reflecting directly into my eyes. I closed them tightly and leaned back into the limo. Whoever owned that building was going to get a piece of my mind. For both the kidnapping and the damage to my eyes. The limo slowed to a halt and the door was opened for me again. Mr. Chae offered his hand once again, and I followed him into the building. As we entered, he bowed slightly to nearly every employee we passed, and he was being greeted from all directions. He returned their greetings, and muttered to me out of the corner of his mouth.

"Smile, and pretend that you came of your own free will. That scowl can only hurt, and you need to be helping your image."

I hesitated, but decided that I had no choice, so I reluctantly smiled. He led me into an elevator and pressed the button for the 48th floor. The top of the building. I must be meeting the head honcho, if we're going straight to the top...

The elevator slowly climbed the floors, and I tapped my foot impatiently. I couldn't wait to get this over with. The squeaking contraption finally came to a halt, and the doors opened to reveal a large, intricately carved door directly across from us.

"That door looks ridiculous. Your boss must have a mother complex, if something so feminine is his first impression." I thought it looked rather nice, actually, the carvings of sakura blossoms over a pond, but I'd never admit it. Not to kidnappers, anyway.

"If you insist, Miss Fujioka," Mr. Chae responded, not rising to my insulting statement. He knocked on the door three times, and we stood in silence for a few seconds. Then, a smooth, "Enter, please" came from the other side. I recognized that voice from the phone call. And it tugged at some part of my brain. I really did know that voice from somewhere... but where? Mr. Chae opened the door, and a blast of cold air greeted me as I peered inside over his shoulder. The room was very neat, organized, and... well, cold. There's no other way to describe it. It was the most unwelcoming office I had ever seen. The room was painted a deep blue color, making it look almost black. The huge windows behind a large desk were partially concealed by fabric of the same color. The walls were lined with bookshelves, more than I've ever seen outside of a library, and in the center of the room there were two sofas. Both dark blue, with a small table in between them. The office was lit only by a few lights on the walls. The lack of lighting cast a shadow over the face of the man at the desk, but I caught the glint of his eyeglasses when his head tilted to look at me. Mr. Chae pulled me into the room and stepped back outside, closing the doors behind him. I swallowed, and stepped closer to get a good look at my captor's face. I froze as I took in his familiar features, the neat dark hair and icy, apathetic eyes. He smirked.

"Welcome, Miss Fujioka. It has been a while, has it not?"

I blinked, speechless.

"Come now, is that any way to greet your old Senpai?"

I flushed, my previous anger overpowering my shock.

"So, _Senpai_, is this how you spend your spare time now? Kidnapping unsuspecting women from their beds at five in the morning?"

"How else was I to get you here?"

"Well, it may be old fashioned, but perhaps you could have _asked_?"

"I did. I called you first."

"You didn't ask, you demanded."

"Ah, no need to be so technical. Besides, you would never had agreed had I not used force. Am I right?"

"That's beside the point. What do you want from me?"

Kyouya Ootori leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. His smirk grew impossibly wider.

"I have a proposition for you, Miss Fujioka. Although, if you're going to be so... conscientious... it isn't much of a proposition. I'd rather like to call it an inescapable opportunity."

"What is it, then?" I asked impatiently. His glasses glinted sinisterly in the faint light, and I knew I wasn't going to like the answer. He glanced at his watch and feigned surprise.

"Oh my, come now, Miss Fujioka. We have somewhere to be."

"And where might that be?" I was growing more agitated by the second.

"Why, your job interview, of course."

"My... what?"

"I'm not in the habit of repeating myself. You know that."

Realization dawned on my face, and my mouth opened in horror.

"Oh, no. No, no, no." I stammered, backing toward the door.

Kyouya merely chuckled humorlessly. "Why, I'm afraid you haven't the choice, Miss Fujioka. My brothers are waiting in the meeting room on the 27th floor to determine whether or not you are a worthy employee for--"

"Oh, but I'm not!" I interrupted him. "Senpai, you can't be serious! I'm still in school! I have a career ahead of me!"

"I am aware of this, Miss Fujioka, thank you," he responded, unfazed by my frantic declination. He stood regally and drifted over to where I was standing. I backed up more. "It is all worked out for you. If you please, follow me."

I scowled, but I knew there wasn't any other way about it. Kyouya never took no for an answer. I followed him out the doors and glared at Mr. Chae as we passed him. He merely smiled back, pretending not to notice my anger.

I glanced up at Kyouya as we stepped into the elevator. He hadn't grown too much taller, but he still towered over me. It intimidated me more now than it did when I was a 15-year-old Host, because the sense of power he exuded was frightening. He seemed so terribly... refined. I felt like the commoner I was, standing there next to him. Not that I was ashamed, of course, but I knew it would be brought up at some point. I tugged the hem of my skirt down, feeling increasingly uncomfortable wearing something so revealing in such prestigious company. I wasn't much concerned with Kyouya's impression of me, but I was slightly worried about his brothers' opinions. And then an idea came to me. I forced back my smile, as the elevator doors slid open.

The second I stepped off that elevator, the turning point in my life was initiated.


	2. Two: Of Samas and Secretaries

Kyouya directed me down the hall, grasping the back of my upper arm. He was always the smart one. I would have bolted the second he let me go. I looked up at Kyouya, scowling.

""This is a crime, you know," I asked, not even bothering to be polite.

"Well then, it is indeed fortunate for me," Kyouya responded, "that I have funded the construction of half the police stations in the four surrounding districts. I doubt they'll listen to a woman's word against my own."

"Tch, so that's how you are, then?" I observed. "You violate the law because you know you can go hide behind your money?"

He stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but smirked. "Precisely."

I gaped. I couldn't believe he was admitting to something like that. Only a truly arrogant person would...

"So, I really don't want to work here, if that's what's going on," I told him, still being tugged along. "I'm in school to be a lawyer, not an office worker."

"Haven't I told you that it's already being taken care of?" He coolly replied, glancing down at me out of the corner of his eye.

"But you haven't explained _how_."

"And I am not obligated to do so."

"But I'm asking you to."

"_You didn't ask, you demanded_," he mocked, repeating what I had said in his office. He turned right sharply, down another hall, and I stumbled after him, tripping over my own feet.

"Senpai, can't you just tell me what's going on?" I begged, getting frustrated. "Friends don't keep things form each other."

He stopped, and met my imploring gaze with indifferent eyes. The smirk on his face had melted away in place of a slight frown. I saw another emotion flutter through them, but it was gone in an instant.

"Friends?" He inquired, his voice laden with skepticism. "You can't be serious, Fujioka-san."

I tilted my head to the side, confused. We _were _friends, weren't we? Could that bond, the one we had created through the Host Club, have just faded away? Had it been too long to call ourselves friends still? Perhaps, in Kyouya's eyes, we really weren't friends anymore. I should have known, since he had stopped calling me Haruhi. I was now "Miss Fujioka." I felt a slight twinge in my stomach, but I brushed it off and laughed dryly.

"Of course I'm not," I lied. "Just tell me what's going on."

"You'll find out soon enough." He set his mouth into a straight line, and he gestured toward the door we had stopped next to. "Please try to act _proper_ in here. My brothers are very critical, and it would be most unpleasant if you were to make me look like a fool for the recommendation."

He opened the door and looked at me expectantly.

I hesitated, drinking in his words. I was planning on becoming a completely mannerless commoner inside, just to avoid getting the job. My conscience was beseeching me to rethink my plan, if only to spare Kyouya his dignity. But I couldn't be bullied into this. I had to back out, and if this was the only way, then so be it.

"Fujioka-san, if you could..." Kyouya urged. I snapped out of my thoughts and stepped in through the doorway, straightening my back confidently.

The first thing I noticed about the room was how terribly quiet it was. And bare. No paintings, or plants, or decorations of any kind. The walls were even white. There was just a long table in front of large window panels, with about ten chairs spaced around the table. Two of them were taken.

In one sat a man who looked positively vicious. His eyebrows were drawn in toward his nose, and arched at a sharp angle up and away from his eyes. His hair was parted to the side, and styled in a way that made him look terribly outdated. His business suit was crisp, and he didn't seem to have a single thing about him that suggested the existence of a heart. I shuddered inwardly.

My eyes traveled to the other man. He looked stern, but not nearly as frightening as the other. He almost looked... weary. As if he were growing tired of the world and its antics. His hair was growing slightly past his eyes, conflicting with the frames of his glasses. He seemed the type to be displeased easily, which worried me.

I couldn't have imagined two more intimidating men to conduct an interview. Instantly, I understood Kyouya's reasoning for not wanting me to reflect poorly on him. He was the youngest sibling, and had worked frighteningly hard to obtain his position. One slip up, and these men would pounce on him in an instant to snatch his title away. After all Kyouya had done, I knew at that moment that I could never bring myself to sabotage him. I had to succeed in this interview. I could always resign later.

I started toward the chair across from the two unsmiling men. They watched me cross the room, their eyes not wavering.

Or, rather, they watched_ my legs_ cross the room. _Men._

I stopped before them, standing in front of the table. I bowed deeply and introduced myself.

"Good morning. I am Haruhi Fujioka. Please think kindly of me."

The men nodded, and I took that as a signal to take my seat. The mean-looking one spoke first.

"Fujioka-san, please tell us why you have decided to submit an application to Ootori Inc."

I glanced over to Kyouya, who was watching me closely. He nodded slightly, as if that was a sign to make up something. I was good at pretending, after all. These two were just like any other rich man. All I had to do was act like I worshipped them, and I'd have the job in an instant.

"Well, you see," I started, smiling as prettily as I could manage. "Your brother, Ootori-san, had mentioned that a job was available, and I thought of how wonderful it would be to work with such refined individuals, such as yourselves. I have heard of your greatness, of course, from my acquaintances. It is too obvious for anyone to overlook, I must admit."

They took the bait. The mean brother's eyes softened slightly, and both of them took on matching arrogant smirks. My eyes flitted toward Kyouya for a brief second, and I could see approval written into his face.

"I believe I have the skills necessary to be useful to the company," I continued. "And I really, _really _ would like to work under men who are in control, intelligent, and resourceful. That is my wish as a prospective employee. I simply can't imagine finding men like that anywhere but here."

Way to go, Haruhi. You nailed it.

The tired brother looked at me appraisingly, and asked me another question.

"Fujioka-san, what skills do you possess that make you worthy of our corporation?"

"Oh, Ootori-sama," I laughed politely, and my voice increased in pitch. "I really mustn't brag about myself like that. Only you can tell me whether or not I am skilled."

This was apparently the right thing to say, because the two men chuckled.

"Yes, yes," the tired one replied. "Only time will tell. You attend Tokyo University?"

"Why yes, Ootori-sama, I do. I am a senior."

"And, how are your organizational skills?" The mean one asked.

"Very well, as they must be. It would have been impossible for me to make it so far in Tokyo University if I had poor organization. Am I right?"

They chuckled again. The mean one said, "Of course, this is true."

After a moment of silence, I asked, "Is there anything else you would like to ask me, Ootori-sama?"

"No, no. Nothing at all," the tired one responded, glancing at his brother and nodding. They stood from their chairs.

"Welcome to the company, Miss Haruhi Fujioka," The mean one said.

I beamed. I really could get far with these manipulation techniques. My mother would be proud. I stood and bowed again.

"Oh, thank you so much!" I gushed, feigning girlish excitement. "You won't be disappointed."

Not that my words mattered, of course. They weren't even paying any attention to my face, much less my words.

I bowed again, and then followed Kyouya out into the hall. Once we were about ten feet away, I turned to him with fire in my eyes.

"You owe me, Senpai," I shot at him. "More than you'll ever know. I can't believe I was in there _simpering_. I never _simper_. And all to save your stupid pride." I began to walk off toward the elevator, but Kyouya grasped my arm and spun me around to look at him. His face was set in a stoic mask, and his eyes were boring into my own.

"Thank you for that..."

Finally, a sincere tha--

"...but I owe you nothing."

Spoke too soon. I always do.

"Congratulations, Fujioka-san," Kyouya leaned in toward me, and I could feel his breath on my face. "You are now officially my personal secretary."

Oh, _no._

((A/N: Well, I hope this satisfied you. It isn't very long, but that's just how life goes. Just so you know, in case you were confused, I started this story using 'Miss' and 'Mr.' for their names. Now, I'm reverting to the Japanese suffixes, which I'll assume you all understand, because they are used all over the anime world. I'm still looking for a beta, if you're interested. I described Kyouya's brothers as I would picture them to be. I don't actually remember seeing them in the anime, so this is what it is. If you're offended by this, please feel free to stop reading now. They'll be playing a crucial role in the story, so this won't be the last of them. That's all I have to say. I'll have the next chapter up soon. Within the next two weeks, to be sure. Until next time...))


	3. Three: Of Arrivals and Arguments

Chapter 3: Of Arrivals and Arguments

I woke up the next morning with a dreadful feeling of foreboding.

My first day.

As Kyouya's secretary.

The first thing that popped into my mind was, "Why me?" All through junior and senior high school, I had studied so hard and worked my way to the top of the class. I was a scholarship student at Ouran. I was second in my class at Tokyo U. So why did God -- or whatever sort of deity was up there, laughing at me -- decide to put me in this position? I've tried my best to be a good person, and I've worked my tail off to make it in life. What kind of sick joke was it, that I would be shoved roughly off the path I had worked so hard to find, only to be someone's _secretary_?

That just wouldn't do.

I rolled out of bed reluctantly, groaning as I pounded my hand onto the top of the irritating alarm clock. It read 4:00.

A.M.

I slunk over to my bathroom and turned on the shower. As I stood under the soothing hot water, I thought about the situation I was in. I certainly got myself into something I shouldn't have. And I only did it for Kyouya's sake. Damn me and my empathy. Why was it that he couldn't show a bit of kindness? I mean, back at Ouran, he helped me out when Tamaki was leaving. He even spent the day at a mall with me! What had happened to him, that had made him change so much? He was always outwardly cold and indifferent, but this was bordering on cruelty.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around myself, and proceeded to my bedroom to change. I decided, as I opened the door, that I would drill Kyouya about it once I got to work. But all thoughts of it were wiped clean within the next few seconds. I halted in the doorway, appalled at the sight before me. My bed was covered with bags, lain neatly across the bedclothes, currently obscured by the rustling plastic. This wasn't really why I was disturbed, however. I was a bit too distracted by the tall, poised figure of a man. In my house. In my _room. _It wasn't a complete stranger, however. I would recognize that glossy black hair anywhere.

I cleared my throat, angered beyond all reason. Kyouya straightened up from tampering with the bags, and turned slowly toward me, an almost imperceptible smirk marring his elegant features. But at least he had the decency to avert his eyes from my towel-clad figure.

"Good morning, Fujioka-san," he greeted me, his eyes flitting to mine for a brief second. "I have provided--"

"Senpai, I don't care what you've provided or what excuse you have for being in my room," I interrupted him, barely containing my fury. "But it would be essential to your well-being for you to leave _immediately_, considering the state of undress I am in."

He nodded silently and walked past me out into the hallway, and I slammed the door shut behind him, leaning back onto it. His silky voice floated under the door, to me.

"I would like to recommend the dark green suit, which is in the bag on top of your pillow." Then I heard his footsteps fading, and I pushed away from the door. I shuffled around the bags on my bed, peering inside, the color draining from my face with each glance. These were all designer clothes. I could pay my rent for 3 months with the money from just one of these suits. Kyouya couldn't possibly have gotten these for me. That would be far too presumptuous, and Kyuoya knew all the social codes, being from the high society himself. I looked in the bag on my pillow, and pulled out the dark green suit Kyouya had mentioned. It was very nice material, and the maple design along the hem was appealing.

So I tossed it back onto my bed and went to my closet.

I pulled a plain black suit out and dressed quickly. I gathered all the bags from my bed and began my march to the main room. Kyouya was sitting on the sofa with his back to me, his legs crossed, speaking English softly into his cell phone. I stood behind him silently, waiting for him to hang up. It took a few minutes, but he finally ended the call, and hadn't even noticed me there. I lifted my arms above his head, and dropped the bags onto him. He paused for a moment, and then stood, the bags slipping from his lap onto the floor, and took a few steps toward the door. For a moment, I thought he was going to walk out, but he just stepped around the perimeter of the couch. He stood centimeters from me before I realized it, towering over me ominously.

"Perhaps you are not aware, Fujioka-san," he said, coldly, "that it is incredibly insulting to drop a gift, rather unceremoniously, onto the benefactor's _head_."

"Perhaps _you_ are not aware, Senpai, that it is against the law to enter one's home without permission."

"As intelligent as everyone claims you are, you failed to do something as simple as reading the _entire_ contract you signed in my office yesterday?"

"It said you could barge into my house at any time, did it?"

"Indirectly."

"How so?"

"One of the conditions read, 'You give the employer the right to use any means to uphold the reputation of the company.'"

"And how does this apply?"

"By assuring that you are dressed properly for work, I am maintaining our reputation."

"You... wait, you memorized the entire contract?"

"Of course not. Only the points I knew you would protest."

I was fuming by this point. My mouth opened several times, but nothing came out. He smirked, noting my speechlessness, and took advantage of the opportunity. He bent over, his face almost touching mine.

"Put on the green suit, and go downstairs," he muttered, his voice laden with calm hostility. "I'll be in the car."

He left the flat swiftly before I had the chance to object. I stood there for a minute or two, struggling to reign in my anger. Once I had calmed myself, I reluctantly changed into the preferred outfit and stepped into the cool morning air. The sun hadn't even graced the sky with its presence. This was just ridiculous.

I leaned over the balcony, looking down at the limo parked in front of the building. Several of my neighbors were doing the same, but clearly with less contempt than I was. Did he have to make such a show of things? I would have preferred walking. I sighed and looked up at the brightening sky, not caring that Kyouya was waiting for me. I didn't notice that the window had been rolled down until I heard squeals from around me.

"Wow! Who is that?"

"He's so cool!"

"How handsome!"

I blinked out of my stupor and looked back down at the limo. Kyouya was leaning his head out the window slightly, looking up at me. The look on his face was pleasant, showing off to the entranced commoners, but his eyes clearly commanded me to get down there. Now.

I scowled and made my way down the steps. I heard the mutters of envy and disbelief from behind me, but I ignored them and slipped into the open door of the limo.

"Thank you for joining me, Fujioka-san," Kyouya stated coldly, expertly masking the irritation I knew was there. I said nothing and sat as close to the door as I could manage, staring out the window. "I suppose you are anxious to hear the plans for today?"

"Oh, I'm thrilled, I assure you," I responded, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.

Kyouya pretended not to notice, and continued. "First of all, I am going to need you to organize all the files and phone numbers of the company's contacts. My last secretary's work was... less than satisfactory. I expect you to surpass her. It shouldn't be difficult at all."

"Of course, Senpai," I responded, unenthusiastically. "If you insist."

"Then, there is going to be a short meeting between the management, and you must attend to take notes on the discussion. My brothers will be there, so don't embarrass me."

I shot him a heated glare, but he ignored me.

"After this, there are several appointments that must be scheduled. I have typed all the information, and the file is on your desk. Your script is also there, for your reference, so you can answer the phone properly. There is a date book next to the file, and any appointments must be placed in there directly, colored according to urgency. Red for most urgent, blue for moderate, black for anything less than that. Why aren't you writing this down?"

I blinked. "I apologize, Senpai, I didn't think to bring a notebook. I had expected all the supplies to be at the office."

"That is another thing. Do not call me 'senpai' any longer."

"What should I call you, then? Kyouya-san?"

"Are we that familiar?"

I gave him a puzzled look. Why would he even ask that?

"Ootori-san, then?"

He nodded briskly, and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "That is acceptable."

I scowled, and looked back out the window. We sat in silence for the remainder of the ride. The car slowed to a stop in front of the Ootori building, and we slid out of the limo.

"Is it going to be like that every morning?" I asked, still a bit miffed at his iciness.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "Your being picked up, or the two of us arguing every second of the trip?"

"Both."

"You _will _be retrieved by the limo every morning so you can receive a briefing of the day's activities. As for the disagreements, I certainly hope those will end soon. It is very exhausting for me."

Exhausting? For _him_? Oh, he is _so_ stuck on himself. I narrowed my eyes and looked away from him, standing on the opposite side of the elevator. I know it's childish, but I really couldn't stand to be within two feet of him at the moment. I was pissed beyond all reason. The elevator halted suddenly, and the doors opened after the bell-like sound. I took a deep breath, praying to whatever deity was up there to help me make it through the day.

((A/N: Yeah, it's been a while. I am aware of this. This chapter is basically just to hold you guys over until my summer vacation. I have so much homework to deal with right now, since it is the end of the school year, that it was a struggle to find time to write this. I hope it was satisfactory. It is unbeta'd, so I apologize for any errors. I chose a beta, but they didn't respond, so now I have to choose a new one. Enjoy 안녕))


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